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One of our evenings in Ethiopia we decided to go with another adoptive family and eat dinner at the traditional restaurant at the Ghion Hotel. The restaurant is a big round building with a grass roof. We were shown to a group of seats gathered around a ‘table’ for dinner.
The tables actually are just big flat baskets complete with attached pedestals to raise them a couple feet off the ground. We sat in chairs all around this basket– it felt very cozy. We were very close to an upraised area which I assumed was where the dancing would occur.
We ordered doro wat (chicken stew) and a beef dish whose name I forget. Before dinner a lady came with a pitcher of warm water and a bowl over which we held our hands. She poured the warm water over our hands to wash, catching the water in the bowl below. In Ethiopia, you traditionally eat with your right hand– no utensils– thus the handwashing made good sense.
Soon after we ordered, a bevy of waitresses came to serve us. First one came and laid a flat basket on the table. It was already covered with injera, the flat grey Ethiopian bread. Then came another waitress with generous dollops of doro wat, the chicken stew with lots of spicy red sauce. Yet another served out our beef dish, also kind of a stew.
Both of the main dishes were served into the center of the injera. Then all around the edges of the dish, they added little dollops of red pepper sauce and a cheese that looked like ricotta. They also added rolls of injera around the edges. There were no plates– we all just ate off the same big basket.
We had the new daughter of the other family demonstrate to us how to tear of chunks of injera and use the injera to pick up a bite of food. I think we embarrassed her, but she graciously gave us a demonstration.
The food was delicious– spicy but not incredibly so. We discovered it took a lot of injera to scoop up all that food. My new one year old chose that evening to be picky. She would not touch a bit of the Ethiopian food, even when the other little Ethiopian girl tried to coax her. After a bit I produced emergency rations– fruit snacks and Cheerios– which she very happily ate.
We had gotten there a bit early. The dancing had not begun yet and the restaurant at first was nearly empty. But by the time our meal was served, people were starting to fill the place. Most of the people were very elegantly dressed.
I felt underdressed in my tan slacks and button-down blouse, and wished I’d at least worn my denim skirt. Many ladies were wearing traditional white Ethiopian dresses, with light scarves draped over their heads or shoulders. But most striking were the East African ladies in their brilliantly colored costumesincluding tall wrapped headdresses. Many of them seemed to be large women, and walked so tall and gracefully that they looked like queens.
When were nearly done with our meal, musicians came out on stage and started tuning up– drums, a flute, something that looked something like a guitar, and I don’t know what else. A person sang a song to start with, and then dancers in bright traditional attire raced out onto the stage.
Lots of pulsing music and energetic movement followed– My one year old was entranced and stood stock-still almost every moment the dancers were on. They did sets of 3 or 4 dances, then raced off stage to change clothes while singing and background music continued. It was all great fun!
After about the 4th costume change we noticed that the costumes seemed to be gradually getting smaller and the dance moves MUCH more suggestive. By this point Tsion was also pretty tired so we called it an evening. but all in all it was a wonderful experience and a wonderful evening.
